


Yes, Professor Winchester

by ToscaRossetti



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Light Dom/sub, Mild Smut, Spanking, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 04:35:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10429200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToscaRossetti/pseuds/ToscaRossetti
Summary: SUMMARY: A new teacher at an all-girl's boarding school has a meeting with a Professor Winchester that turns out differently than she could have imagined.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I chose to call the OC “Miss Smith” because that's a generic name to me. I've never been able to really get into those stories that refer to the OC as “Y/N”.

I was the 'new kid on the block' at this boarding school, fresh out of college myself, and so busy that I had barely had time to make any friends. There seemed to be a hierarchy among the teachers as well as the students, most of the other women teachers would barely give me the time of day. There were only a couple of men who taught there, and there was a pair of young-ish brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester, who were the only ones who had been really friendly with me. When I had first arrived at the school, some of my supplies hadn't been delivered in time, and I'd had to borrow quite a few things from various people. The brothers were the only ones who were kind about it and didn't act begrudgingly about lending me supplies. In return, I brought them freshly made coffee some mornings, and dropped them off in their rooms.

Professor Dean Winchester's classroom was right next to mine. His low voice would carry out into the hallway when he was lecturing, and when he got upset with the class, his voice would become an even deeper pitch...and it somehow still carried. I would hear him asking the class questions, and they would answer as one, “Yes, Professor Winchester.” I was impressed with the control he had over the class, when he got stern, they immediately stopped their misbehaving, and became silent. My class, on the other hand, was full of chatterboxes and girls who were disrespectful. Or maybe that was because they could tell that I was a “newbie” in the teaching world.

It was the end of the quarter, and Professor Winchester had agreed to help me learn to navigate the school's data entry system for grading the students.

He was a tall man, broad shouldered, with short brown hair and green eyes, a handsome man who didn't seem to be aware of his affect on the student body in the school. There was always a small group of girls who had a crush on Professor Winchester, and I had heard them talking in the lunch room and seen their texted comments over their shoulders in class. He, however, remained a consummate professional as far as dealing with students and teachers alike.

We had been at it for almost an hour, entering grades into the computers, and I was getting stiff from sitting hunched over the monitor in the corner of the room. We were in Professor Winchester's office, which was a typically masculine decorated space- of course, there were shelves overflowing with books, but there were also weapons decorating the walls and unusual objets d'art that you wouldn't expect to see in an office such as this, like large geodes and a crystal ball on an ornate metal tripod. Some of the weapons were old, and unusual as well- curved knives with gem encrusted hilts, a blow gun with darts below it, and a large sword high up on the wall behind his desk. Whatever this guy did in his spare time, he had eclectic tastes.

I sat up straight and stretched my back, groaning a little as I felt my spine pop.

“I heard that,” he said as he stood up and walked behind the massive oak desk in the middle of the room. He walked over to a cabinet on the far wall and opened it, taking out a tall bottle of amber liquid and two heavy crystal tumblers.

“It's after hours now, we can relax,” he raised the glasses in the air and looked a question at me. I stood up and walked over as he turned and set the bottle and glasses on the desk. He uncapped the bottle and poured a couple fingers of whiskey in each one. I came over to stand in front of the desk, and he picked up a tumbler and handed it to me, then picked the other one up.

He held his up. “What should we drink to?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. I noticed how green his eyes were, again. The man had some of the clearest, greenest eyes I'd ever seen, and sometimes I had to make myself not stare at them.

“How about...it's the end of the quarter and the break is coming up,” I said.

“Hallelujah to that,” he said, and clinked his glass with mine.

“Slainte,” I said, and took a little sip. I didn't drink much hard liquor. He raised his glass and took a healthy swallow, and I watched his adam's apple bob as the drink went down his throat.

He sat down in the desk chair and set the drink on the blotter. Then he took off his jacket and hung it over the back of his chair, and loosened his tie, unbuttoning the top button of his crisp white shirt.

“With you on that side of the desk and me on this side, I kinda feel like you're the teacher and I'm the student.” I told him with a nervous laugh.

“Would you _like_ to be the student to my teacher?” he asked in a low voice, and raised an eyebrow at me.

My breath caught in my throat and I didn't know what to say. I could feel my face get red, so I sat down on the chair in front of the desk and leaned over to pretend to fiddle with one of my shoes so that I could keep my head down until my blush faded.

He picked up a stack of manila folders and straightened them, then placed them to one side.

“So, how about these girls and their behavior? I don't think I've ever filled out so many discipline reports in one semester before.” He rubbed his hand over his face and tapped the pile of folders. “These are all referrals to me or detention and what have you.”

“Professor Hutton says that it's the time of year, the girls are ready to go on break and they just want to get out of here,” I said.

“I think we all are that way,” he agreed, taking another drink.

I took another small sip and coughed a little as the liquid burned going down my throat. He chuckled at me. “Not used to the strong stuff, are we?”

“No, sorry,” I said. “I'm more of a wine and cheese kind of girl myself.”

“Oh, don't let the Women's Department hear you call yourself girl. They'd be all up in arms and insist that you call yourself a woman.” He grinned at me and I noticed that he had dimples.

“Girl, woman, it's all the same to me,” I waved my hand. “I don't care about labels.”

“Me neither.” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“So, you dole out the consequences here?” I asked, looking at him.

“Yeah, I give lots of stern lectures and talk about demerits and how this will affect their transcript. That usually gets their attention. Just once I'd like to say 'ten points from Gryffindor' and see what one of them says.”

He grinned at me again, and I laughed. “Oh, I think you should, that would be _so_ funny!”

“None of the other teachers seem to share our sense of humor.” He drained his glass and then refilled it.

“I guess I do need to be serious about the things that happen here, because a bad report can affect a college admission,” he sighed, and rubbed his hand over his face.

“Only if they get caught,” I said, and then I felt myself blushing a little. I can't believe I had the audacity to say that to him!

He had been raising his glass to his mouth, and he stopped and looked at me, raising his eyebrows for a moment. “And what's that supposed to mean?” He took a drink from his glass.

I shrugged. “Some of us...have had experiences where things happened and no one got in trouble for it.”

He set the glass down and leaned forward slightly, focused on me. _“Oh?”_

His intense gaze, focused on me like that, made my insides quiver. In order to hide how I was feeling, I took a drink, and then coughed slightly.

He leaned back and chuckled at me. “Still can't handle your liquor...am I going to be pouring you into a taxi later, Miss Smith?”

“No, I won't let it get that far.” I told him. “I'm pretty responsible.” I took a deep breath and drained my glass, then set in down on the desk with a thump. I grinned at him, and he uncapped the bottle and refilled my glass, and topped his up. We both picked up our glasses, clinked them, and took a drink.

I held my glass in my hands, becoming aware that the drink was making me relaxed, that the burn I had felt when I swallowed it down had turned to a warmth and was spreading throughout my body. My palms were a little sweaty.

“So tell me about this...experience you had,” he watched me intently, his green eyes bright.

“Well, in high school we were rivals with this other school, and both schools were always trying to steal the other school's stuff, like their trophies and things. So I went with a group of them one year to steal the mascot. I wasn't even really into it, but I was dating this jock, and I went along with it for him.”

“What did you do?”

“We snuck into the school, and their mascot was an alligator. They had this taxidermied alligator in the front lobby, and we stole it, and then the group took it out to the water tower near our school and hung it up from there. Unfortunately, it was an old alligator, and the head detached from the body and it got ruined.”

He started laughing. “I'm sorry, that's just...that's just kinda ridiculous.”

“Well it gets worse. The school was all up in arms, because apparently this beloved former principal had gone hunting and shot this thing himself, and it had been at the school for like 30 years, and it was a big deal to everyone.”

“Oh, no!” he laughed harder. “So what happened?”

“What do you mean?” I took another sip of my drink, and set the glass on the desk.

“What happened to all of you? Did you get caught, or what?”

“Oh, no. No one ever figured out who did it, I mean they were suspicious, but no one ever got caught, and no one got into trouble for it. The school was so pissed off too, because a taxidermy job of that size is very expensive, and there was no way to repair it. Plus the fact that it had been donated to the school by the principal and all...they sure loved their alligators. It really fanned the flames of the rivalry, though! It got ugly for a long time after that.”

Professor Winchester sat up straight and looked at me. “So you never got caught. Or had to answer for your crimes.”

“Well, I don't know if it was a crime...”

“You said that you broke into a school, that's B & E.”

“B & E?”

“Breaking and entering. And then you took something from the school off of school property, which would be considered vandalism and theft.” His gaze was intent again. “And you never had to answer for this.”

“Uh...no.” I felt myself blushing again, and looked down at my lap.

“Eyes up here, Miss Smith.” he said, and his voice was deeper and more serious.

My breath caught in my throat for a moment and I raised my head and looked him in the eyes.

“I think it's time that you answer for your role in those shenanigans,” he told me.

I swallowed audibly, my mouth suddenly gone dry. “And how do you propose to do that? Ten points from Gryffindor?” I tried to make my voice light.

I smiled at him, but he said, “This is no laughing matter, young lady,” in a stern voice. “You commited a crime, actually a few crimes, and I'm surprised that none of you were ever caught or punished. I'm also surprised that none of you came forward and confessed.”

“I thought about it...but he convinced me not to.”

He nodded briefly. “Allowing yourself to be influenced by your boyfriend. You just went along with everything, didn't you? You're _very_ lucky you weren't caught, they probably would have convinced you to take the fall for them.”

“Maybe,” I said. “They were an okay group.”

“An okay group,” he repeated. “Who thinks a fun night is to break into a school and steal something.”

“Okay, I've confessed it, and it happened a long time ago, so can we let it go now?” I asked, getting a little annoyed.

He sat up straight in his chair and leaned forward, looking at me with more intensity than before. “No, we can't let it go,” he said. “You still have to be dealt with for your part in it.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “And how am I going to be 'dealt with' ? What are you going to do, paddle me like they used to do?”

“Well, that got outlawed quite a while ago,” he said, opening a drawer. “I do, however, have this.” He reached into the desk and pulled something out, placing it on the blotter between us. It was a heavy wooden ruler, 12 inches long, and about an inch and a half wide, and thicker than most regular school rulers.

I felt another nervous pang in my stomach. “What are you-- what do you propose to do with that?” I asked, and my voice shook.

“I think you still have some residual guilt left over from what happened. I noticed you blushing when you first started telling me, and your body language while you were talking all pointed to unresolved guilt.”

“How do you know this stuff?” I scoffed.

“Well, my father was practiced at reading people and he also was a consumate bullshit detector. I could never lie to him about anything, and if he ever actually caught me in a lie, I got my ass busted not only for my misbehavior, but for lying as well. I learned how to read people from him.”

“He sounds like a peach,” I said sarcastically.

“He had his reasons for doing what he did,” he said. “Now, back to the matter at hand. I think that we need to deal with this. With you.”

“ 'Deal with'? What does that mean?” I asked archly.

He stood up then, and leaned down so that his face was close to mine. “It means that you become the student that you were, and you get disciplined for your previous crimes.”

“Disciplined?” My voice was barely a whisper, and it shook.

“I asked you before if you'd like to be the student to my teacher,” he said in a low, rough voice. “You didn't answer me, but the blush on your face told me everything I needed to know. And then you tell me that story about you misbehaving with your friends, and I can only come to one conclusion... that you want what I asked to happen. You're just too shy to ask or even acknowledge it.” He straightened up and held my eyes with his intense gaze.

“I...uh...” I clasped my hands together in my lap and squirmed a little, embarrassed. I had to drop my eyes and look down; I couldn't keep looking at him.

“Don't worry, your body is telling me things that your voice can't.” he said.

“Now, Miss Smith, you're going to stand up, and bend over the desk. You can hold on to the far end if you prefer, but you will not get up until I have permitted you to. Is that clear?” He unbuttoned the cuff of his right sleeve and began to roll it up, revealing a well muscled forearm. My stomach clenched at the sight of it.

Then he picked up the ruler and started to walk around the desk. I stood up, and just stood there with my head bowed a little.

“I expect an answer,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said, and my voice cracked.

“No,” he said severely. “You will answer me with 'yes sir; or 'no sir', is that clear?”

“Um, y-yes sir.” I tucked my hair behind my ear and noticed that my hand was shaking.

“Bend over the desk,” he stepped closer to me, standing on my left side.

I leaned forward, and then stretched my arms out and gripped the opposite edge of the desk.

I swallowed nervously and stared at his leather chair. I should ask him where he got it, the leather is beautiful, I thought to myself, and then I heard a loud whap! sound and a second later felt a stinging line of pain on my rear end.

“Holy shit!” I gasped. “That hurts!”

“Young lady, you will refrain from using that kind of language unless you want more added on to the end,” his voice was stern.

“I- I'm sorry sir,” I said meekly.

“That's better,” he said.

There was another loud crack and another line of pain bloomed right below the first one.

“Oohh my God...” I shifted my weight from foot to foot, trying to deal with the pain.

Another loud crack and another line of stinging pain- the damn ruler was so long that both cheeks felt the impact. I pushed up on my tiptoes, thinking that any sort of movement might relieve the sting, but then I realized that was a mistake, because that just presented my ass as a better target. I clamped my thighs together and pressed my hips down onto the desk, hoping that would shift the angle of my hips and make my butt less of a target.

He put his hand on my lower back and said, “Stay just like that.”

I sucked in my breath and bit my lip as three more swats fell, each one right below the previous one.

I put my weight full on the desk as my feet involuntarily came off the ground and kicked.

“Oooh...” I moaned in response to the pain.

And then oh God, I realized I shouldn't have done that, because the kicking had made the short skirt I was wearing move up onto my upper thighs. I felt him sweep the fabric up onto my lower back, and I turned my head to look at him.

“What are you doing?” I hissed.

He put his hand on my lower back again, holding my skirt out of the way, and laid another couple of swats down onto my panty-clad bottom.

I couldn't help it, I yelped, because holy shit the sting was much worse without the protection of my skirt!

“Oh God,” I moaned as he aimed a swat right at the crease where bottom meets thigh.

Another swat, right at the tops of my thighs, and I gasped, because it was on bare skin.

He put the ruler on the desk next to me. “That was 10,” he said. “I'll finish with my hand, because I can see that your skin is already red, and I don't want you to bruise.”

“My skin is—is red?” I said breathlessly. Oh god, he could see the skin of my rear end!

He smoothed his hand over my panties, and I gasped a little at the gentle touch, after all the hard smacks of the wooden ruler.

“Should I rub some of the sting out?” he asked in a quiet voice, continuing to caress my bottom. My body relaxed in response to his touch, and my thighs parted very slightly.

My breath stuttered in my throat and I couldn't answer him.

His hand moved down to my thighs, and then I felt his fingertips tracing up my inner thigh and brush lightly against the crotch of my panties.

“Why, Miss Smith, you're positively soaked. Are you enjoying this?”

“Holy shit.” I breathed, and then I yelped again as his hand came down on my right buttock.

“What did I say about language?” he asked severely. “I should just take you over my knee and spank the disrespect out of you.”

“I—I'm sorry s-sir,” I breathed.

He leaned down again, so that his head was right by mine, and asked quietly, “Is that what you would like? To be over my knees?” I could feel his breath on my ear, and he leaned closer and then I felt his lips brush against my neck, just below the earlobe. I shuddered, and felt my face getting hot again.

“I—I don't--” I didn't know what to say, as desire swept through me. All of a sudden, I wanted this man.

“Or should I just finish your punishment here, and then turn you over on the desk and take you?”

I moaned wordlessly and shuddered.

He gave a small chuckle, and his breath stirred my hair against my neck. “I think your body is telling me the answer to that,” he whispered.

He took his hand away from my bottom, and then his palm fell on my rear again. He began to speak as he spanked me.

“You were _such_ a naughty _girl_...breaking and _entering_...vandalism and _stealing_...you _should_ have been _caught_...you _should_ have been _punished_...”

His hand fell at intervals, emphasizing certain words, and I was writhing on his desk, squeezing my thighs together as I felt his breath on my neck.

“That's what you're here for,” I said breathlessly.

“Yes, I'm here to punish you for your misbehavior...that's what I do, I punish _bad_ _girls...”_

He stopped spanking, and then I felt his hand rubbing my bottom again. He straightened up and stepped behind me. “You're quite red now,” he remarked.

“What are you going to do now?” I asked, and my voice trembled.

“Well, you're going to turn over,” he said, putting his hand on my arm and helping me up so that I rolled over on my back. My thighs fell open slightly, and my skirt was tangled around my waist. The crotch of my panties was soaked through, and I could feel some wetness on my inner thighs.

Before I had a chance to feel embarrassed, he said, “My goodness, you _are_ soaked. Such a _wanton_ girl, to get so turned on by a spanking. Should I see what else turns you on?”

“Oh my God...yes...” I breathed.

He stepped next to me and leaned over, picking up his glass and taking a deep drink of the whiskey. He put it down and then leaned over me and kissed me full on the lips. I could taste the sharpness of the alcohol on his lips, and it turned me on even more. Our mouths opened and his tongue sought mine, and we kissed deeply.

I felt his fingertips on my cheek, stroking downwards, then gliding down my neck, across my collarbone, and then down to my breast. He stroked the side of my breast, and then around the undercurve, and then his thumb brushed across my nipple. I arched my back and moaned into his mouth.

“So responsive,” he murmured. “Is _all_ of you this responsive?”

I moaned again as he brushed his thumb across my nipple again. “I think I should find out.” he said.

He bent his head, and his lips followed the path that his fingers had taken, until I could feel him kissing his way across my breast.

“This would work better if there wasn't clothing in the way, don't you think?”

“Uhhh,” I groaned, desire making it hard for me to speak. I sat up and pulled off my shirt and camisole in one movement, tossing them to the side. He caught them in his hand and placed them on the chair I had been sitting in.

“No bra, Miss Smith?” he asked in a husky voice, raising his eyebrow. “How positively...immodest of you, at an all-girls' boarding school.”

“The camisole has a built- in shelf bra,” I told him, surprised that I was able to be matter-of-fact in this moment. “I wear them on Fridays when I want to feel relaxed.”

He stepped close to me and pushed my shoulder back so that I laid back down on the desk. “I'd say you are feeling pretty relaxed, aren't you? So relaxed that you were able to come into my office and ask for your...punishment.”

I shuddered when he said that. “I didn't ask!”

“Not in so many words,” he leaned down into my face, and his lips just grazed mine. “Like I said before, your body is telling me all kinds of things that your mouth isn't.”

He started to kiss me, deep and slow, and then moved away from my lips, kissing his way down the curve of my chin, then on to my neck. I shuddered again and moaned a little as I felt his fingertips skating around the sides of my breast, and then in closer, just brushing around the outside of the aureole, then... I felt the calluses on the tips of his fingers lightly brush across my nipple, and I arched my back and moaned loudly.

He stopped kissing my collarbone, and his head came up.

“My God...” he said. “I thought you were responsive before-”

I reached up and grabbed his head, bringing it down to my chest, positioning his face right in front of my breast.

“My, my, aren't you wayward,” he murmured. “Patience, Miss Smith.”

“Screw patience.” I gritted out. “Kiss me.” I held on to his head, and he chuckled, and lowered his head. I closed my eyes and felt his tongue flick across my hardening nipple, making it even harder, and I arched my back and moaned again. My nipples have always been very sensitive.

“Oh God, yes,” I breathed.

His lips closed on my nipple and I felt his teeth bite down gently, and I shuddered, feeling a pang that went straight to my core.I felt the fingertips of his other hand brushing across my other nipple, and gasped as my abdomen quivered.

I thrust my hips against nothing and moaned as he sucked slightly on my nipple, tongue-ing it and biting it again.

He stopped what he was doing. “Are you going to come?” He asked in a low voice. “You will not come until I give you permission to, is that clear?”

“No, I won't...I mean I don't, come, from nipple stimulation only,” I panted. “But it helps me get a whole hell of a lot closer!”

He chuckled again, and bent his head. “That's good to know. Your nipples are amazingly sensitive.”

“You have no idea,” I groaned.

His mouth closed around the other nipple this time, and his fingertips flicked the one he had just finished kissing. The nipple was still wet with his saliva, and it made the cool air in the room seem cooler.

I crushed my thighs together, as sensation built up between them, and rocked my hips.

He did the same thing, sucking and biting on my nipple gently, and then I felt his hand gliding down...down...the side of my torso, across my hip, and I felt him pushing the fabric of my skirt out of the way. His fingertips skated across my lower abdomen, and my stomach quivered. I relaxed my legs, and opened them slightly. Then I felt his fingertips at the lower part of my thigh, moving up slowly, tracing along the skin of my inner thigh until he reached almost to the place where my thighs met--

“You're so wet, it's on the skin of your thighs,” he murmured appreciatively. “You're practically dripping.” He moved his head up and kissed my lips deeply.

“I cannot _wait_ to taste you,” he said.

“Then do it.” I said. “Taste me. Taste all of me.”

He pulled back and looked at me with a smile. “My, my, telling me what to do,” he said. “We're in _my_ office, Miss Smith, you will do as _I_ say,” he leaned down and kissed the side of my neck, right under my chin, “Or you will suffer the consequences.”

“Ohhhh god,” I breathed. “Please...”

He chuckled, in the back of his throat. “Please what?” he continued to kiss down my neck again, light little butterfly touches with his lips barely brushing the skin.

“Please just...just...touch me...taste me... do whatever, just...I need to come!” I panted.

He chuckled again. “All in good time.” he murmured. “Haven't you ever heard the saying, good things come to those who wait?”

“Whoever said that wasn't on the edge of an orgasm!” I said impatiently.

“My my... you're getting a little snappy,” he said. “What can I do to calm you down?”

“Stop talking and...do what you said you were going to do!” I grabbed his hand and pushed it down towards my panties.

“May I remind you, for the second time in just a few minutes, that this is _my_ office, and here, _I_ am in charge...and you _will_ be patient...”

I groaned, a little frustrated, and arched my back.

“Mmm,” he murmured appreciatively, “That does amazing things to your breasts when you do that.”

“I need _you_ to do amazing things to my breasts...please...” I begged, and he laughed out right.

“All right, enough talk then.” He bent his head and took my nipple in his mouth again, and as I moaned and arched my back, I felt his fingers slip down across my abdomen and then dip in between my thighs.

We both heard the jingling of keys and the click of the doorknob at the same moment.

He stood up and hurried over to the door, unlocking it and holding it open a couple of inches. “Hey, Joe...how are you?” he asked smoothly.

“Oh, hey, Professor Winchester...sorry, I didn't realize you was in there.”

“That's all right, I had to stay late to enter grades into the system. Give me a few minutes and I'll be gone, all right?”

“No problem, I'll clean the rest of the offices and get yours on the way back.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Okay, sir, talk to you later.”

He closed the door and walked back over to me. I had sat up on the edge of the desk and was hunched forward, covering my chest with my arms.

“That was close!” I said. “Do you think he knew...”

He shook his head. “No, and if he did, he wouldn't say anything, he's a good guy.” He looked at me and sighed. “I guess we'll have to...finish this somewhere else.”

I swallowed nervously. “You—you want to?” I asked, sitting up straight.

He stepped closed to me and put his hands on my waist. “Well, yes, there's so much that we didn't get to...discuss.” He pulled me to the edge of the desk and stepped in between my spread legs, and rubbed his crotch against mine. I could feel his hard length, right against me, and I moaned slightly and arched my back.

“Mmm,” he murmured in the back of his throat. “Don't keep doing that, or poor Joe is going to be waiting to clean this office all night!” He stepped back, grinning at me.

I got off of the desk. “You started it.” I said playfully.

I bent down and picked up my shirt, and he gave me a little swat on the rear.

“Yes, I started it, and I intend to finish it too.” he said in a stern voice.

“Promises, promises,” I said. We spent the next couple of minutes packing up our bags. I righted my clothing and he fixed his sleeve, and put the ruler back in the desk drawer. He put the bottle and tumblers back in the cabinet and shut down his computers.

Then we left to office together and walked out to the parking lot.

He followed me over to my car.

He stood close to me, looking down at me. “My place, or yours?” he asked huskily.

“Hey!” I heard a voice call. We both turned. One of the other teachers came over.

“You too?” She asked, shuffling her books in her arms.

“What?” I said, confused.

“Had to stay late and forgot about the Extras Meeting!”

“Oh...yeah...” I said.

“At least it's at La Cantina and Marion said she'd pay for a couple pitchers of margaritas!”

“Yeah,” I tried not to sound regretful.

“Well, see you soon!” She walked over to a light blue compact car and got in.

He looked at me. “I guess we'll have to continue our...discussion...another time.”

“Yeah, sorry,” I said regretfully. “I've _got_ to go to this, this is a required meeting for the extracurricular activities group.”

“At a Mexican restaurant, with pitchers of margaritas. Maybe I'd better check up on you later to make sure that you... behaved yourself.”

“I _always_ behave, I'm a _perfect_ angel,” I said haughtily, teasing him.

“Hmm, somehow I doubt that.” He cocked one of his eyebrows at me.

I looked up at him, gazing into his green eyes.” I really want to kiss you right about now,” I breathed.

“PDAs are discouraged on campus, Miss Smith. I'd have to do... something... about it.”

“I like the sound of that.” I said mischeviously. He reached down and put his hand on my right buttock, then squeezed it gently.

“Ouch!” I gasped. My bottom was still a little sensitive.

“Behave yourself, young lady,” he said with mock stern-ness. “'I'll be seeing you.”

He leaned his face down, right into mine, and his lips barely brushed against mine.

“Yes, Professor Winchester,” I murmured.

He watched as I got into my car, raising a hand to me as I drove away.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
